Some Day This Crazy World Will Have To End
by xahra99
Summary: Written for the 2009 apocalyptothon challenge for the prompt: Billy's final secret blog entry, as discovered by survivors of the Evil League of Evil's greatest triumph. Complete.


Some Day This Crazy World Will Have to End

A Dr Horrible fan fiction by xahra99

For kanedax' request: 'Billy's final secret blog entry, discovered by survivors of the Evil League of Evil's greatest triumph.' as part of the apocalyptothon lj challenge.

The SWAT team kicked in the basement door at precisely 4.05 am.

The door exploded into splinters at the first blow. The soldiers had come heavily armed, because there was no telling what you might find when you broke into a mad scientist's laboratory.

But the apartment was a little less mad than they'd expected. A rack of test tubes and a small chemistry lab stood in one corner. A ripped and stained dartboard with a picture of Captain Hammer's head pasted in the centre hung on the wall. Beneath the dartboard stood an IKEA desk. On the desk sat an ordinary-looking computer. A door in one wall led to a small kitchen. Saucepans and a wire framed colander hung from loops of yellow and green striped electrical wire. If you cleared out the esoteric glassware you could have housed a young family in the basement without too much trouble.

There were no weapons in the apartment. There were no other people. And there was no Doctor Horrible.

"You'd think a guy who could build a freeze ray in his basement wouldn't be...you know, living in a basement," muttered Stevens, the group's sniper.

The SWAT sergeant flipped up the visor of his helmet. "That's the Evil League of Evil. What a bunch of nutters."

A scream came from outside. The SWAT team instinctively ducked.

"Look at it this way," Sergeant Juarez said. 'We're probably safer here than anywhere else."

The two other soldiers nodded.

The streets had not been safe since the Evil League of Evil had unleashed the Mayan apocalypse on the city of Los Angeles twelve hours ago. Exactly how they had achieved this was unclear, though the results were concrete enough. The Mayan Lords One Death and Seven Death stalked the boulevards with their attendant demons, entertaining themselves by challenging Angelinos to puzzle contests. The puzzles took the form of limericks phrased in the ancient and incomprehensible language of the Maya. Juarez had yet to hear of anybody completing the puzzles. He _had_ heard that those who failed were eaten. Juarez assumed that they passed on to a Mayan underworld of unspeakable torture. He had no desire to find out at first hand.

All things considered, Dr Horrible's apartment building had withstood the end of the world pretty well. Part of the ceiling had collapsed in one place, sprinkling powdery dust over the cheap linoleum flooring. Both kitchen windows were spiderwebbed with cracks. But the building was still standing and the power was still on, and there was a complete lack of Dr Horrible. The SWAT team, freed from the dual threat of Mayan oblivion and scientific retribution, finally relaxed.

Wilson reached up and ran a hand through the tangle of glowing green neon tubes that hung from the ceiling. "What do these do?"

"Do you really want to know?"

Stevens pointed at a glowing plasma ball. "Hey! I've got one of those."

Wilson edged slowly away from him. "Are you a mad scientist?" he asked Stevens suspiciously.

Juarez touched the plasma ball and watched as the plasma arced around his hand. "What does it do?"

Stevens seemed surprised by the question. "Do? It doesn't _do_ anything."

The SWAT team fanned out around the basement, kicking aside laundry baskets full of red lab coats and rummaging through folders full of blueprints marked 'TOP SECRET.'

Stevens shoved aside a battered orange chintz armchair. "That's a really big chair."

"Really big armchairs do not mad scientists make." Juarez said.

"That's dead philosophical of you, Sarge."

"Just find his damn plans." Juarez snapped."There must be something. The Evil League of Evil always makes sure everyone knows their evil schemes. But this time-nothing! There must be plans hidden here! A clue, at least!"

Stevens held up a jar. In its murky depths, something floated. "Sarge, do you think this is a clue?"

"It's a pickle."

"Oh." Stevens put down the jar. He picked up another one. "This one's olives."

"Stop searching his food cupboard and go and look through that stuff!" Juarez shouted.

"Sarge?"

Juarez glanced up from his own search, "Yes, Wilson?"

"I've got a question." Stevens said. He put down a pile of brain scans and flexed his shoulders. "Why didn't somebody stop them?"

"Bad Horse took all the superheroes out weeks ago. Don't you watch the news?"

Stevens nodded. "Yeah, Sarge, I do. But I didn't realize the League was such a threat. They looked like a bunch of guys in funny costumes."

Juarez sighed. "You're not from around here, are you, Wilson?"

"No, Sarge, but..."

"The moral of the story here in LA is: never underestimate a bunch of guys in funny costumes. After all, they're the reason the Mayan gods of friggin' death are stomping around out there in my city."

Wilson gestured around the apartment. "But how is this guy going to help us stop them?"

"Wilson, this guy, as you so casually call him, is their brain. If we take him down, then well, success and promotions will be ours."

"But he's not here." Wilson pointed out.

"Well then, we have to find his evil plan. It'll be here somewhere, mark my words. And then...promotions!"

"And the mythological apocalypse will be averted."

Juarez waved a dismissive hand. "That, too."

"But there's just this computer and a bunch of useless crap here!"

Both soldiers spun and grabbed at their guns as a creaking noise filled the room. Both of them simultaneously relaxed as they saw Stevens flip over a whiteboard.

Juarez frowned as the board creaked to a stop. "What the hell _is_ that?"

The left half of the whiteboard was filled with calculations. The calculations flowed towards a single point in the centre of the board, forming an arrow shape, becoming smaller and more simplified as they went. The apex of the arrow was an equals sign scrawled in thick red marker. Alongside the '=' was a small stick figure of a man in a coat and goggles, and a girl with red hair that reached her shoulders. They were holding hands.

Juarez looked at the diagram and at the apex of the arrow. The arrow pointed towards the computer. The green power button glowed.

Juarez walked to the computer and touched the keyboard.

The computer hummed to life. The screen flickered. Stevens, startled by the noise, fired automatically. The shot released a family of experimental mice from their cage

"Stop it, you fool!" Juarez snapped. He stamped his boots to discourage rodent invaders and peered at the screen. It displayed a media player. The player was blank, but there was a small progress bar at the bottom.

Juarez pressed 'Play.'

The screen displayed a pink blur. The blur gradually resolved itself into a hand, which drew back from the screen. A thin man wearing a brown hooded sweatshirt sat down in the chair facing the computer. Juarez recognized the background to the shot. He turned his head and checked. Minus a few SWAT-induced damages, the kitchen looked the same on the film as it did now.

"That's Dr Horrible," he said. 'Must be a webcam recording."

Stevens peered at the screen. "That's not Doctor Horrible!"

Juarez hit pause. "Why is it not Doctor Horrible?" he asked the sniper in a voice that dripped with patience and sarcasm.

"Dr Horrible wears goggles."

"It's Dr Horrible _without _his goggles."Juarez said, resisting the urge to pick up the computer and bludgeon Stevens to death with it. Stevens was a brilliant, _brilliant_ sniper. He was just the man you would want by your side (or, even better, far away on a tall building) in a tricky bank robbery, or a hostage situation gone wrong. He was most emphatically _not_ the man for any operation requiring intense thought.

"He looks like the kid I used to beat up in gym class." Juarez said, squinting at the picture. "Small, with a big forehead."

"Should we even be _watching_ this?" Wilson asked.

Juarez looked genuinely surprised. "Who's going to know?"

Wilson pointed to the three of them. "We will!"

"Nobody's going to tell, are they, Stevens?

Stevens saluted. "No, Sarge."

"Are they, Wilson?"

Wilson sighed. "No, Sarge."

Juarez nodded in satisfaction. He pressed 'Play' again and opened his mouth. But what he was about to say was never heard, because right at that moment Dr Horrible spoke.

The doctor said, "I didn't mean for this to happen."

Juarez blinked. He had expected a maniacal laugh, or some wacky musical number. Not a monologue from some guy who looked about as normal as you could possibly get, barring the look in his eyes. Dr Horrible's eyes looked like he had been to Hell and back. There was a rip in his brown sweatshirt. He had a split lip.

The man on the screen spoke again. "My name's Billy. And yes, I'm Doctor Horrible. But I never wanted this. I never wanted to end the world. This was all a mistake."

Juarez snorted. "That's what they all say. A mistake."

"I killed Penny," said Billy/Dr Horrible. "I didn't mean to, but I did."

"Who's Penny?" Steven said.

"Who cares?" said Juarez. He reached over and paused the movie. "We have a confession."

"A bunch of people saw him do all kinds of awful stuff." Wilson said. "We don't need a confession. We need a solution." He looked around the empty flat. "Besides, we'd need to find him first."

"Wasn't Penny Captain Hammer's girlfriend?" asked Stevens. "The one who was in the papers all that time ago?"

"You're right." Juarez said. He looked at the sniper in surprise. "How'd you remember?"

"I thought she was cute." Stevens said wistfully.

"Too much information, Stevens." Juarez said. He hit 'Play' again.

"The League stole my temporal manipulator," said Dr Horrible. "My Time Ray. I meant to use it to go back in time and save Penny. I told them I wanted no part in their plan, but they stole my machine and they used it anyway. I was too late to stop them. They sent the world forwards in time to 2012."

"So _that's_ what happened,' Wilson said.

Dr Horrible moved closer to the screen. His voice lowered to a whisper. "They've unleashed the Mayan apocalypse."

Stevens patted his jacket. "They sent the world forwards in time?" He thumped his chest. "I'm lookin' pretty good for a thirty-five year old."

Juarez rolled his eyes. "Stevens, _please_."

"How can turning the clock forwards cause the apocalypse?" Wilson asked. "It happens every year. It's called Daylight Savings Time."

"As I understand it," said Juarez, as he paused the tape for what seemed the umpteenth time, "the Mayan calendar counts _down_. To 2012."

"What happens then?"

"What do you think?" Juarez pointed towards the window. "Do Mayan death gods ring any bells? Look, no more questions. I'm just a humble sergeant-"

"Like hell, Sarge." Stevens said loyally.

"-but we better sit down and shut up and _listen to what this man has to say_ if we want to have any chance of stopping it, okay?" He tapped the mouse.

Dr Horrible hunched forwards, towards the screen. He glanced over his shoulder. "I haven't got much time!' he hissed, "I stole the Time Ray back from the League, but they're almost here. I'm going to use the ray to go back, and I'm going to find Penny. I should have done it years ago. The machine's got one more charge left after I'm gone. Whoever you are, you have to use it! Turn the clock back to 2009. Save the world." He got up from his chair and walked to the left off screen. The sound of footfalls echoed from the speakers, then a whisper. "This world's got to end someday. But I can't do it. I'm sorry. I can't do it."

The SWAT team stood in silence for a moment, and then erupted.

"What did he mean, we haven't got much time?" Wilson asked.

"Never mind that, where did he put that blasted machine? Where did he go?" Juarez questioned frantically.

"He's gone back to the future," Stevens said. "Only without the car."

"Thanks for your input, Stevens," Juarez said dryly. "Now, about that machine?"

Wilson shoved Stevens. "Actually, he's gone back to the _past_..."

"Details, Wilson." Juarez snapped. "Not important."

A sound came from outside. It was the noise of horseshoes on sidewalk concrete.

The SWAT team explained glances.

"Bad Horse!" Juarez and Stevens whispered simultaneously.

"A horse doesn't sound so scary to me." Wilson said. "Even a bad one."

"Then you haven't met this horse!" Juarez snapped as Stevens overturned a table for cover. Conical flasks smashed and colored liquids spattered across the floor as they crawled behind the upturned piece of furniture. Only Wilson remained standing.

The sound of horseshoes grew closer.

"What are you doing?" Juarez hissed.

Wilson grinned cockily. He snapped the safety off his rifle. "Take cover, you pussies. You might be from LA, but I'm from Wyoming, and we know how to treat horses where I come from. I'll deal with this myself."

"Wilson, stop!" Juarez hissed as the clopping noises halted outside the basement door. A dusky shadow could just be seen through the tinted glass. "Would a normal horse even be able to get down the stairs to this apartment?"

Wilson turned his head. "I don't know what that's got to-"

The remnants of the door ripped apart. A brown horse with a wide white blaze down its nose stood in the doorway. It turned its mild dark eyes on Wilson and opened its mouth.

"The Death Whinny!" Juarez hissed.

Wilson squeaked. His finger moved for the trigger. Before he could press it a terrible noise echoed through the building. Juarez and Stevens huddled behind the upturned table and stuck their fingers in their ears. When it was over Juarez cautiously raised his head. The horse nosed curiously at a pair of military-issue leather boots. The smoke pouring out of them was all that was left of Wilson.

"Poor bastard," muttered Stevens.

"Alas, we barely knew him," said Juarez. 'Now move!"

Stevens snatched up his gun. Juarez, searching for an alternative exit route, crawled out from behind the table. He opened the door of the closet and stared. Behind a layer of black rubber boots stood a strange looking contraption.

Doctor Horrible had hidden his Time Ray in the shoe cupboard.

"Stevens! Over here!"

The horse opened its mouth again. Juarez dived into the cupboard. Stevens followed a moment later. Bad Horse's second whinny shredded splinters from the doorframe. Juarez and Stevens crouched over Dr Horrible's Time Ray and searched frantically for the flashlights hidden in their suits.

Juarez found his first. A circle of pale light illuminated the gleaming chrome of the manipulator's keyboard. A LCD panel glowed faintly in the dark.

_Set temporal deviation? Current setting: years_

Juarez reached out and pressed '-3'

_Current temporal setting: July 12, 2012. Temporal deviation'-3' on setting 'years' results in temporal setting: July 12, 2009. Y/N._

Juarez pressed 'Y'. As his hand left the keyboard he heard the noise of hooves coming closer.

"Hurry up!" Stevens whispered.

_Temporal setting: July 12, 2009. Now charging...._

A progress bar began to charge.

"Sarge?"' whispered Stevens "You want me to go out and create a distraction?"

Juarez shook his head, realizing as he did so that there was no way Stevens would be able to see the movement in the poor light. "We've got time," he said. As the words left his lips he hoped that he was right.

The door slid open. Stevens yanked at the handle. The door slid closed again. The progress bar winked off.

_Activating..._

Juarez wondered if he should help Stevens, but there was no room in the small space, and besides, it probably wouldn't do any good.

_How in hell can the horse open the door anyway?_

There was a burst of blinding light.

Juarez woke up in a pile of black rubber boots with Stevens lying on top of him. The door was open. There was no sign of Bad Horse.

Juarez elbowed Stevens in the side until the sniper grunted and slid off him. He rose to his feet, dusted off his ass and walked out into Dr Horrible's -no, Billy's- apartment. His shoes crunched on broken glass. The door lay in pine-scented shreds. Wilson's boots steamed gently in the fresh morning air.

Juarez walked into the kitchen. He leaned over the sink, pushed open the window and looked up at the street. It was a beautiful morning. There were no Mayan death gods. There was no smoke.

"We did it!" He punched the air. "We did it!"

The exclamation caught the attention of a few early morning walkers, who glanced down from the street at the basement window. A woman with shoulder-length red-brown hair and kind eyes smiled at Juarez as she walked arm in arm with her boyfriend. Her partner was a thin man in a brown hooded sweatshirt. He had tousled blond hair and a face that looked horribly familiar.

Juarez blinked and rubbed at his eyes. When he looked up again, the girl and her boyfriend had gone.

"Must have imagined it." Juarez muttered as he went back into the apartment to wake up Stevens. The curtains fluttered gently in a soft wind. The broken glass on the floor caught the morning sun and split its light into a rainbow of colors.

It was a beautiful day.


End file.
